


Who Would Kill Such a Nice Guy?

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: The murdered man was well-liked; helpful, with no known enemies...
Relationships: Jim Ellison & Blair Sandburg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Who Would Kill Such a Nice Guy?

Who Would Kill Such a Nice Guy?

by Bluewolf

"What is your emergency?"

The quiet, steady voice was reassuring; Mandy Roberts took a deep breath to help calm herself before saying, her voice a little unsteady, "There's a dead man in the street outside my house."

"Right, Ma'am. Can I have your name, please."

"Mandy - that is, Amanda - Roberts."

"And your address?"

"594 Seattle Drive."

"You're sure it's a body, rather than somebody who has just passed out, drunk."

Mandy released her breath with a shuddering sigh. "There's blood - so much blood... "

"Right then, Ms. Roberts. There'll be an ambulance and a police car with you in a few minutes."

Mandy watched from the window, and sure enough, barely five minutes later, an ambulance pulled up outside her gate. She took a deep breath and went out, to find one of the paramedics already bending over the body.

"H-hello," she said.

The second man turned to her. "Ms. Roberts?"

"Yes."

"We'll get him away as quickly as possible. There'll be a police car coming - should just be a minute or two - and they'll have questions for you. But for the moment, to help the doctors - have you any idea what happened?"

"No - I was out, and when I came home I saw him... and the blood... There was so much blood, I just went straight in and phoned 911."

Just then an elderly-looking blue truck pulled in. About to go back into her house, Mandy hesitated, though she was far from sure that any policeman would be driving a vehicle like that.

The driver was a tall and (she had to admit) handsome man; his partner was smaller, with long hair and... no, they couldn't be police! No policeman would dress like that!

"Ms. Roberts?" It was the taller one who spoke. He was already holding up a badge. "Detective Ellison, Major Crime. This is my colleague, Blair Sandburg - he's actually a consultant working with Major Crime."

"Right. Do you want to come in, Detective?"

"Inside will be more comfortable for you." It was the long-haired consultant who answered her.

She led him inside; aware that the other cop had gone over to speak to the EMTs.

"Coffee?" She really wanted this over with, but good manners prompted the offer.

"No, thank you. We won't keep you any longer than we must. From what Dylas told us, all you did was find the body, but there are one or two questions we have to ask."

She nodded, guessing that 'Dylas' was the woman she had spoken to.

"Yes. I was out - I like to keep fit, and I have a three to four mile walk every morning. When I got home, I saw the body... and all the blood on the sidewalk... I knew, from the amount of blood, that he had to be dead... I came in and phoned 911."

"You didn't touch the body?" His voice was very gentle.

"God, no!"

He gave a sympathetic smile. "I don't blame you."

"I might have, if there hadn't been so much blood," she added. "If he'd just been lying there, it could have been someone who'd had a heart attack. But... "

He nodded. "Did you get a look at his face at all?"

"A quick look. It was enough to tell me he wasn't someone I knew."

"Have you lived here long?"

"All my life," she said. "I half thought of moving after my parents died - they were killed four years ago in that fire at Wellgate Mall - but decided not to. I had a very happy childhood; if I moved, I wouldn't have the memories this house gives me."

"I'm so sorry!" The sympathy in Blair's voice was genuine, hardly surprising because he had lost a friend, a fellow TA, in that fire. The result of an electrical fault on the second floor, it had spread very quickly, trapping almost everyone in the floors above; and although the fire department had arrived within minutes, and the firemen had done their best and managed to save a lot of the people trapped, over two hundred had died, mostly from smoke inhalation.

"But after this... I'm sort of rethinking that... "

After a moment of silence Blair went on. "You have a walk of about an hour, maybe a little more, every morning?"

"Yes."

"You must go out very early?"

"I'm a morning person - get up about 6 every morning. I'm usually out by 7 on weekdays. That gives me my walk before I go to work." She gave a wry smile. "I work flexible hours, though I mostly start about 8:30 - an hour's walk, come home, quick wash, change into my working clothes, and it's a ten minute drive to work. I'll be later this morning because of... this, and I can't just take the day off without having notified my boss first, but I _can_ work a shorter day today."

Blair nodded. "Handy," he said. "I was a TA at Rainier for several years, and the amount of unpaid overtime we had to work - especially at exam times... "

The comment was hardly in line with what she had said about flexible hours, but she recognized his attempt to be sympathetic.

There was a knock on the door, and Mandy crossed to it, opened it. It was the second cop - yes, Ellison.

"Come in," she said. "Coffee?"

He glanced at his friend, then shook his head. "No, thanks. We'll have to get back to the PD and get our report written up. Sandburg, you finished?"

"Yes; Ms. Roberts was just the person unlucky enough to find the victim. She thinks he was already dead when she saw him."

"Okay. Jack and Harry have taken the body to the hospital; I want a quick look round where he was, then we can get back."

Blair glanced at Mandy. "I doubt we'll need to speak to you again. But - think about your memories of here. Don't let this... unpleasantness, that was outside the garden, influence you into doing something that you might regret, a couple of years down the line."

She nodded. "I'll think about it," she said.

Jim and Blair went out, and she closed the door. She leaned against it. She knew he was right - but she wondered how long it would be before she stopped 'seeing' the body lying on the sidewalk beside her front gate.

Maybe she should make a point of not using the gate for a few days, and instead use the drive, and walk in the other direction - although that wasn't her preferred walk. The 'other direction' took her into totally built-up streets; her normal walk took her towards a large park.

***

As Jim and Blair went down the path to the gate, Blair said, "One thing she mentioned was the amount of blood - was he stabbed, rather than shot?"

"Yes." As Jim opened the gate, he went on, "Just as well Ms. Roberts didn't stop to look closer at the body; she'd have had nightmares for months. Whoever was responsible, it was a really vicious attack." He paused, looking around. "It looked personal rather than random. A lot of these knife attacks _seem_ random - though some are gang initiation 'rites' - everyone in the gang has knifed and killed someone. Point is, the victim in these cases was just unlucky, in the wrong place at the wrong time. This, though - it had the look of... the attacker knew his victim. The random ones... most of the stab wounds are to the body. This one concentrated on the neck."

"As if he was trying to - well, remove the man's head?"

"Yes. It seemed very personal." He closed the gate, and turned his attention to the ground around the pool of blood, leaning on Blair's presence to help him focus. But there was, as he had been almost certain, nothing there.

***

Jim knew that the ambulance would have taken the murdered man to the hospital; although there was no doubting that he was dead, the EMTs didn't have the authority to make the declaration, a doctor would have to do that. And there certainly hadn't been enough time for the body to have been transferred to the police morgue, where the medical examiner would have to perform an autopsy. And so he and Blair went direct to Major Crime, where Blair began to type up his report - uninformative though it was.

The hospital, however, wasted no time in transferring the body to the police morgue once a doctor had declared that the man was indeed DOA.

The first thing Dan Wolfe did was check the pockets of the dead man's clothes - because there was still no identification, he assumed that the hospital probably hadn't done that - and he was right. A check of the man's coat revealed an inside pocket containing a wallet.

It held not quite $100, a debit card in the name of Mr. L. Bruce and a driving license that gave the address 635 Bellingham Road.

He picked up the phone and called Major Crime, knowing that because he'd been there - just minutes away from the scene of the killing - the detective assigned to investigate the case was Jim Ellison, even though normally it would go to Homicide.

***

Meanwhile, in Major Crime, Jim and Blair were reading the little information that they had. When the internal phone rang, he picked it up, almost glad of the interruption. "Ellison."

"Dan here, Jim. I've got an identification for your murder victim - L. Bruce, 635 Bellingham Road. I know you didn't get a chance to check his pockets but the hospital didn't bother - probably because they knew he'd be coming straight here. And at risk of telling you your job - the motive certainly wasn't theft or his wallet wouldn't have been in his pocket."

"Thanks, Dan. You're right, Blair and I have the feeling that the killing was something personal. I'll get that address checked out."

He hung up and glanced at Blair. "Definitely personal," he said. "His wallet was still in his pocket."

They headed out and made their way to 635 Bellingham Road. It was on the outskirts of Cascade, in one of the better parts of the town, the occupants well-paid without necessarily being rich, and not very far from where the dead man had been found.

***

Jim wasn't sure that they would get a reply when he rang the bell of 635 Bellingham Road. It was possible that the dead man lived on his own, or that whoever he lived with also worked. It was certainly unlikely that the victim had been missed - he had probably been on his way to work when he was killed.

However, the door was opened before he had waited long enough to decide that nobody was in; the man who opened it bore a slight resemblance to the dead man. Possibly a brother?

Jim held up his badge. "Detective Ellison," he said, "and my colleague, Consultant Sandburg. Is this where Mr. L. Bruce lived?"

"My younger brother. Is... is something wrong?"

"May we come in?" Jim asked, his voice gentle. The man stepped back to allow them to enter, then closed the door. "You are - ?"

"Andy Bruce."

"Thank you. I'm very sorry to have to tell you - your brother is dead."

"Lenny dead? No!"

"I'm sorry," Jim repeated. "Can you tell me... what time did he leave the house this morning?"

"About seven. He walks to work - he never learned to drive and if he took the bus he'd have to get off at Wilkenson's and change buses. He decided he was faster just walking... "

He was interrupted by the phone. "Excuse me?"

Jim nodded and Bruce picked up the phone. "Hello?... I - I don't know any details but the police just arrived to tell me Lenny's dead... Yes. I'll phone you back when I know more." He hung up. "Mr Robbins' secretary, wondering if he was sick because he hadn't arrived for work," he said. "What happened?"

"Someone attacked him in Seattle Road; stabbed him. A woman living there found him outside her gate at about 8 this morning, and immediately phoned for an ambulance. He was taken direct to the hospital, but he was already dead. His wallet was still in his pocket, so theft wasn't the motive. It was more... " Jim hesitated. "Did he have any enemies? Or even a recent disagreement with someone?"

"No. He was very easy-going. Helpful. The kind of person who goes out of his way to help people. If it looked like he was going to get involved in an argument, he'd step back and say he was wrong, even when he was right, because he didn't want to cause trouble. He... " Andy Bruce's voice broke.

"A really nice guy," Blair said softly. "I wish I could have known him."

"Where did he work?" Jim asked. "Because he might have had a recent disagreement with someone that he told a workmate about even though he didn't tell you."

"Robbins' Finance Company."

"Right. I know you told them that you'd phone back when you knew a little more, but we'll go there now, and we'll tell his boss. Meanwhile... I know it won't be easy for you, but would it be possible for you go to the police station and formally identify him? Because the identification we got was based on the information in his wallet."

"Yes... I work from home, so there's no problem about taking the time."

"We'll let them know to expect you. And Mr. Bruce - I really am sorry to inflict this on you."

Bruce gave his eyes a surreptitious wipe. "You have your job to do, Detective. I understand that."

"His body will be released to you as soon as possible, though it might be some days."

"Thank you."

***

Back in the truck, Jim said quietly, "That's one part of the job I hate; telling someone that their relative, spouse, whatever, is dead."

"You never know how they'll react?"

As he started the truck, Jim said, "You can get anything from denial to... to being blamed, as if you were the killer. Mr. Bruce was shattered, but... If his brother was anything like him, the victim was - as you said - 'a really nice guy'."

"Makes the killing look more random?"

"Certainly makes it less likely to have been personal, less likely to have been someone he knew, had a falling out with. And yet... the way he was stabbed... "

"Though it's well said, beware the anger of a tolerant man."

"Yes, but Chief, _he_ was the tolerant man. Call the station, let them know Bruce is coming in to do a formal identification."

Blair nodded and called it in; as he hung up, Jim drove into the parking lot of Robbins' Finance Company.

***

The elderly woman sitting at Reception looked up with a practised, insincere smile as Jim and Blair approached the desk.

Jim flashed his badge. "I'd like a word with Mr. Robbins, please. Detective Ellison, Major Crime."

Her smile froze. "Is this about... about Lenny Bruce?"

Receptionists know everything, Jim thought. "I'm afraid so. Now - Mr. Robbins?"

She clicked a switch. A voice said, "Yes, Faith?"

"A Detective Ellison to see you, sir."

"Send him in."

"Yes, sir." She stood, rounded the counter, and led them along the corridor, past one door and stopped at the second. A sign on it said 'Marcus Robbins’. She knocked, opened the door, and indicated that they should enter.

The man sitting at the big desk that dominated the room looked, to Blair's eyes, very self-important. "Detective Ellison." The voice was flat, unemotional, and Blair knew that he would find working for this man quite soul-destroying.

"Yes, sir. This is Consultant Sandburg."

Blair smiled and said, "Good morning, sir." He managed to sound as if he felt he was doing Robbins a favor just by acknowledging him.

"I would appreciate it if you could call all your employees together - I assume you do have a room where you can address all your employees at the same time? It saves so much of your valuable time if you speak to them all at once."

Blair gave himself a mental grin; he was aware of the sardonic undertone in Jim's voice, but he doubted very much that Robbins had the insight to realize that Jim, far from respecting Robbins, clearly - to Blair's mind - despised the man as one who probably took most of the credit for anything and everything his employees did.

Robbins nodded and pressed a button on one of the units of his desk. "Faith, call everyone to Meeting Room 1."

"Yes, sir."

"Bruce's brother told Faith that he was dead," Robbins said.

"Yes, sir."

Robbins got up and went to the door, clearly expecting Jim and Blair to know that they should follow him. They did, and he led them past another three doors to one standing open. There were already several people in the room, and even as they reached the door some more appeared, approaching it quickly - not actually running, but certainly not wasting any time. Robbins led Jim and Blair to a platform at the side of the door.

There was one seat in the room - on the platform, with a low podium beside it. The employees - even the ones who had to have some seniority in the firm - stood, facing the platform, and Blair found himself wondering just how much turnover of staff there was. He had already decided that he certainly wouldn't want to work for this man - not once he saw how little respect Robbins seemed to have for the men and women who worked for him - and this set-up definitely confirmed that.

The last to enter was Faith; she closed the door, and Robbins nodded to Jim.

Jim stood looking at the thirty-odd people in the room, wishing that either they were a little lower - as in sitting - or he were a little higher. As it was, he didn't have a clear view of all of them.

This was quite obviously one of the ways in which Robbins kept his employees 'in their place'. For him, the comfort of a seat; for them, the discomfort of standing during meetings.

"I'm James Ellison, a senior Detective with Cascade Police. My colleague here is Blair Sandburg, a Consultant who works as my partner much of the time.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here. I'm sorry to have to tell you - one of your colleagues is dead."

A voice from the floor, barely audible, whispered, "Lenny?"

Blair stepped forward, taking over, allowing Jim to concentrate on the autonomic response of the men and women in front of them. "Yes," he said. "His body was found in Seattle Drive early this morning. He'd been stabbed, and bled to death." He was silent for a moment, allowing them to come to terms with what had happened - and also giving Jim that moment to 'read' their reactions.

"Theft?" someone muttered. "But Lenny was the sort of guy who would just hand over his wallet, saying something like, 'You need this more than I do'."

"Not theft," Blair said quietly. "His wallet was in his pocket; that's how we were able to identify him so quickly. It was more as if the attack was personal - he was stabbed several times."

"But everyone liked him," someone else said, and there was a general murmur of agreement. "He's - he was - the go-to person for anyone who had a problem."

"That's what his brother said," Blair agreed. "That he was very easy-going. Helpful. The kind of person who goes out of his way to help people. But someone... It could have been someone who knew his reputation, went to him for help - maybe advice on how to tackle a problem - but for some reason he couldn't help, and whoever it was took it personally."

"If he couldn't help at all he'd have been very apologetic," someone else said.

"That's the picture we got of him," Blair agreed. He was aware of Jim inching his way along the platform towards him, and suspected he was trying to get a better line of sight on someone. "But there are some people - their reaction would be 'If you can't help or advise me, I'll make sure you can't help or advise anyone!'. The killer could easily have been someone like that." He was aware of an expression he didn't like on the face of one of his audience and breathed, "Jim, right in front of me, in the third row."

Instantly Jim jumped down from the platform, pushed past two women, and grabbed the arm of a man standing just behind them. "This one?" he asked.

"Yes," Blair said.

On the platform, Robbins was already standing. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked above the babble of almost horrified voices that had broken out the moment Jim grabbed the man.

Jim ignored Robbins as he glanced at the man standing beside his captive. "His name?" he asked. He had a suspicion that if he asked his captive he would’t get an answer.

"Harve Robbins." The man threw a look that was almost apologetic towards the stage.

"Harve Robbins. You are under arrest on suspicion of killing Lenny Bruce. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in court - "

On the stage, Blair pulled out his cell phone as Marcus Robbins repeated, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He was totally ignoring Blair, who punched in speed dial 0, and quickly reported the situation.

Meanwhile Jim, having finished reciting the Miranda, looked up at Marcus Robbins. "Based on the expression on Mr. Robbins' face, both Consultant Sandburg and I believe that he knows something about Mr. Bruce's death," he said. "And if you interfere, sir, I'll arrest you as well for attempting to interfere in the course of justice."

Robbins closed his mouth and stared at the prisoner for some moments. Then he said, very quietly, "What have you done, Harve?"

Harve said nothing. On the stage, Blair asked quietly, "Who is Harve to you, sir?"

"My oldest nephew... I never married, so he's my heir. I brought him into the business to learn it so that when I die the transition to - Oh, god! If he did kill Bruce... "

Blair nodded sympathetically. He didn't like Robbins, but he did feel some sympathy for him.

"Can you think of any reason why Harve might want to kill Mr. Bruce - or at least be happy that Bruce is dead?"

Robbins shook his head. "It's what everyone was saying - everybody liked Bruce... it was never too much bother to him to help someone... but if Harve was having a problem, asked Bruce and Bruce couldn't help him, I was the one he should have come to next. Hell, I'm the one he should have come to first!"

Robbins drew a deep breath. Is there anything else you need to speak to the staff about?"

Blair looked over at Jim. "I'd doubt it," he said, "but Detective Ellison might want to say something more."

Robbins nodded, then said slowly and even more quietly, "Mr. Sandburg - is Detective Ellison related in any way to William Ellison?"

"His older son," Blair said. "Detective Ellison had - has - no interest in business, and so he went into the army. When his period of enlistment was up, he chose to join the police. It's his younger brother who chose a business career." Blair grinned to himself. Robbins clearly respected William Ellison's son - because of his father's wealth - more than he would ever have respected a highly successful detective.

Outside, they heard footsteps and voices and Blair moved quickly to open the door. "In here, guys."

The two patrol officers entered the room, glanced around and immediately crossed to Jim.

Jim nodded towards the prisoner. "Harve Robbins, suspected of murder."

***

After Harve had been removed, Jim rejoined Blair and Robbins on the platform. Robbins said quietly, "Things are now in the hands of the police. You can all go."

Jim added quietly, "Obviously, we'll let Mr. Robbins know what's happening - at the moment, all we have is suspicion." He turned back to Robbins as the men and women left the room. "If he continues to remain silent... "

"You'll have to release him?"

"Yes, though the suspicion won't go away."

"You really do believe he's guilty, don't you?"

"Yes," Jim said quietly. "And so does Consultant Sandburg. His PhD is in Anthropology, but he also has a BSc in psychiatry. We both saw something in your nephew's face that made us suspect he knew more about Mr. Bruce's death than he would have had us think."

"But you didn't talk to each other - "

"We're partners, Mr. Robbins. Partners, especially ones who have been together for some years, tend to have an awareness of how the other thinks. The other Major Crime detectives insist that my ability to communicate with Sandburg is almost telepathic."

"But why should Harve - ? If he had a problem... "

"He might have thought he'd be considered weak... Do your other staff members know that he's your heir?" Jim asked.

"I've never broadcast the fact... As far as I know, everyone - even Faith, my secretary - knows he's my nephew but thinks I've just given him a job because he needed one, and I've been careful not to treat him any differently from the others."

"All right. We'll go back to the station now and question him. I hope we're wrong - " although he was certain that they were correct - "but if we're right, well, perhaps he could explain why. Justified homicide can be a valid defense."

"When the murdered man was Larry Bruce? How could anyone justify killing him?" Robbins' voice was bitter.

There was no answer Jim could give.

***

As they headed for the PD, Jim said, "Will you question him, Chief?"

Blair glanced sideways at him. "Shaman, rather than Blair, questioning the suspect?"

"Yes. I hate to pass the job on to you, but if you use the power of that voice, he'll tell the truth."

"Just don't tell Simon, or he'll have me questioning every suspect that comes in."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Chief. I need you beside me, not helping out everyone else in Major Crime - even though you are officially a consultant to the department."

***

Once they reached the PD, they lost no time in reporting to Simon and getting Harve Robbins taken to an interrogation room. Jim set up a tape recorder, inputting the standard information of place, date, time, etc., while Blair settled into the seat facing their suspect. A patrol officer stood guarding the door.

Blair glanced at Jim, who nodded 'ready', and turned his attention to Robbins.

"Your name?" he asked, using his normal voice.

Robbins glared at him. "You know perfectly well that I'm Harve Robbins."

"Yes, but we need you to tell us here for the record. You know why you're here?"

"Because you idiots think I killed Lenny Bruce."

"Did you?" He put the full force of his shaman voice into the question. Jim, ready for it, had dialed his hearing down; but a quick glance at the patrol officer showed Jim that it wouldn't take much to persuade him to confess to having done something - cheated on his wife, perhaps?

Well, that wasn't what they were there for. He returned his attention to Robbins.

The man's heart was beating double time, and he was clearly fighting to remain silent. Blair said again, "Did. You. Kill. Lenny Bruce?"

"Yes... " There was almost a touch of relief in Robbins' voice, as if he was relieved to be admitting it.

"Why?" Blair asked. Now that Robbins had admitted his guilt, Blair reduced the amount of power in his voice. "Everybody said how nice he was, how helpful... "

"He was too nice. Too helpful. Too well-liked. I hated him for it."

"So you killed him because everyone liked him?"

"Yes." The voice was barely audible, then it gained strength again. "Everyone liked him. Nobody liked me. It wasn't even as if my uncle gave me preferential treatment; I was just his gofer. But nobody liked me."

"As if... They knew he was your uncle, but because you were 'just his gofer' you thought they thought he didn't much like you?" Blair put a note of sympathy into his voice.

"Yes."

"It didn't occur to you that you were 'just his gofer' because he didn't want anyone to think you were getting preferential treatment? And it was a way for you to learn everything about the business - including how the boss could expect the least important of his employees to react to anything? What the boss could reasonably expect the least important of his employees to do? That in another month or two you might be 'promoted' to something more demanding?"

Robbins' jaw dropped.

"You thought that because the boss was your uncle you should be given a position of importance right away even though you knew nothing about how everything worked?"

"That... That was pretty well what Bruce said when I asked him for advice. I thought he was being condescending when he said Uncle probably thought I needed to learn the job. I thought... from what I'd seen I thought Faith did all the work, and Uncle just sat back and took all the credit... I didn't think I needed to learn the job."

"Which made you think all the advice Bruce ever gave was just hot air?"

"Yes."

"But basically you were jealous of his popularity."

"Yes."

"Thank you," Jim said quietly, and switched off the tape recorder.

***

Harve Robbins was declared of unsound mind and committed to Conover. Marcus Robbins called his younger nephew, Terry, in to speak to him, decided that Terry had more sense than Harve had ever had, explained the situation to him and that he wanted his heir to know the business and what it was reasonable to expect everyone to do, and employed him in Harve's place, quickly seeing that where Harve had indeed never been much liked, Terry was. It also made him see that his own 'I'm the boss' attitude wasn't the best way to get efficient service from his staff, and he relaxed a bit. The result was, to his surprise, a more efficient work force.

Basically, Robbins realized, Lenny Bruce's death, while tragic, had been a final gift of his generous nature. It had left Robbins' Finance Company a happier and more efficient place to work.

***

The whole situation had enhanced Jim and Blair's reputation in Major Crime. Nobody in the PD had any doubt that Lenny Bruce's murder would have remained unsolved if the investigating officers had been anyone else. And fortunately nobody in Major Crime had the mentality that would make them jealous of their colleagues' success. Envious, possibly - but not jealous.

Everyone was too happy to get the bad (or insane) guys off the street.


End file.
